


kiss the name that you sign

by sakkakitty, stealthsuit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakkakitty/pseuds/sakkakitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthsuit/pseuds/stealthsuit
Summary: There, clear as day on the top of the papers, was his name. He walked closer, warring with his moral conscience. Tony’s eyes widened as he stopped by the bed, resting his thighs lightly on it as he reached out a hand.The box was full of letters. Letters to the team. Tony sifted through a few of them, his curiosity mounting. There was at least one addressed to all of them, but a vast majority were to Tony, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that. Were all of these from his time in D.C? Why hadn’t anybody gotten them? Were they not meant to know?





	kiss the name that you sign

**Author's Note:**

> BEGONE THOT!!!! *THROWS THIS FIC OUT INTO THE WILD*
> 
> for the "accidental love confessions" space on our bingo card! this one........really gotten away from us. sakka and i were like yeah this is gonna be a big boy while planning it out, but like we meant 5k lol. the title comes from nat king cole's cover of love letters! (a popular 40s song)

Tony absently rubbed a hand over his mouth, feeling that special kind of bone deep wariness only really present after a tough fight. He sat on the edge of one of the medbay tables, trying to keep his leg from jiggling. He really did want to remain as still as possible as the nurse wrapped his ribs up, but he was antsy. The fight hadn’t been as clean as he wanted it to be, and he had lost sight of some of the others before the final explosion and he wanted to make sure they were all okay. Damn these stupid Hydra raids; they were simple until they weren’t.

As soon as the nurse was done wrapping his ribs, the main doctor manifested in front of him. Tony eyed him warily. He was fine—the nurse did a lot of work—so the man’s presence made him uneasy.    

“Doc! Did you come to see little ol’ me? I knew I was your favorite,” Tony said, grinning easily despite his mild unrest. The doctor didn’t react, because why would he? Tony made sure to get the best and most qualified professionals for the job, but would it kill them to lighten up a little bit?

“How’s my team, Doc? Everyone’s in one piece?” he asked, clapping his hands together. He slid off the bed, wincing at the movement. It put weight on his torso and he could really feel those cracked ribs now.

The doctor looked down at his clipboard with a sigh. “Black Widow is fine. So is Hawkeye. He’s getting his ankle wrapped and complaining about it, of course, to the point that the nurse wants to complain about _his_ bedside manner. This is me making a formal complaint on her behalf.”

Tony snorted, his lip twitching to a smile. “Thanks for not handing me paperwork; you know how I feel about that. Formal complaints go to Maria though. How about the rest of the team?”

“Banner is sleeping off his transformation and Thor is currently helping with clean up,” the doctor listed off dryly.

“And what about the good Captain? Is he giving the poor nurses a heart attack again?” Tony asked, running a hand through his hair. The doctor stared at him for a moment, before he shook his head once.

“Captain Rogers is currently being monitored by the trauma team. He was the closest one to the blast, per my report, and took more damage than the rest of you,” the doctor said.

Tony paused, hand still in his hair, and gave the doctor a _look_ _._ “And you saved that for last, _why?"_  he said, blowing out a breath. “Is Cap awake?”

Steve in the trauma center? That must’ve been one hell of a hit to put him down for the count like that. Tony tried to ignore the little tendril of worry that unfurled in his gut. It was Steve; he should be fine.

“He was unconscious, the last time I checked. The serum is doing the most of the work. We’re just speeding up the process. We have faith in his recovery.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Yeah, yeah, so they were thinking the same thing. But rarely did the doctors have to _speed up the process._ Steve could lose a leg and they would all call it a scratch.

“Even then, Bruce’s naptime isn’t much more important,” Tony snarked before shaking his head and fluttering a hand at the man. “From now on, Spangles is a top priority.” Wait. “I mean whoever is in the trauma center is top priority. Whatever, I’m leaving now.”

He ignored the doctor’s cleanly arched eyebrow. He wasn’t paying the man to judge him.

Tony headed to the elevator, reaching up to rub his temples and wincing as he accidentally pulled on his sore muscles. His hands fell back to his sides. Tony tried not to think about Steve lying on a hospital bed beat to hell. It was Tony’s least favorite look on the man.

“JARVIS? Steve’s floor.”

“Right away, sir.”

The man always complained about the hospital gowns the few times he had to wear them. Just like a petulant child. Not cute at all. Tony might as well pick his clothes up now. He leaned his against the cool surface of the elevator and sighed, trying to force his own teasing thoughts out of his head. _You like him. You like liiiiike him._ Tony rolled his eyes at himself. Had he always been this annoying?

The elevator stopped with a ping and the doors opened up. He stepped briskly into Steve’s immaculate floor and made a beeline to his bedroom.  

“He better not say I never did anything for him,” Tony said under his breath as he pushed the door open. Steve’s bedroom was about as tidy as the rest of the floor in a militaristic kind of way. Very minimalist. Tony sighed. Steve was allowed to decorate. He tried to not let it get to him, the sight of Steve not settling down in the tower. Even the sheets on his bed were pulled taunt, not having a single wrinkle on them like nobody ever lived there.

The only thing that threw off the whole barren vibe was the box sitting on Steve’s bed. The lid was off and Tony could barely make out what was in the box from his place in the doorway. He had never seen it before. The outside of the box was decorated with ink patterns, big loops and vibrant colors. Tony couldn’t make them all out, but they were beautiful and majestic. He could tell. He once had to attend an art gallery as Pepper’s plus one and the ink work reminded him of the paintings he saw. Steve was really something else with his artistic talent and skill. The man was never shy with it and some of Tony’s favorite moments were when Steve shared his work with a soft pride, so the fact that it was his first time seeing this…

Tony walked closer to get a better look. “Are those papers, Cap? Who the hell keeps paper anything now?” He snorted.

He sorely wanted to look inside, but it felt wrong, knowing that Steve couldn’t be there to stop Tony from snooping in his Special Private Box. Taking a deep breath, he forced his eyes away and towards the wall were his dressers were leaning.

He headed over, opening up the drawers and peering inside. He picked out clothes at random, looking for the items that look the most worn in. See, Tony could be considerate. Sometimes.

Feel satisfied, he straightened up, the clothes thrown into the crook of his elbow. He glanced up in the mirror on the way up, and suddenly paused, squinting at the reflection of the box in the mirror. He turned, eyeing the box curiously.

There, clear as day on the top of the papers, was his name. He walked closer, warring with his moral conscience. Tony’s eyes widened as he stopped by the bed, resting his thighs lightly on it as he reached out a hand.

The box was full of letters. Letters to the team. Tony sifted through a few of them, his curiosity mounting. There was at least one addressed to all of them, but a vast majority were to Tony, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that. Were all of these from his time in D.C? Why hadn’t anybody gotten them? Were they not meant to know?

“Secrets don’t make friends, Cap,” Tony murmured, thumbing through the papers. He pursed his lips, considering. So what if the team wasn’t supposed to know? What if _Tony_ wasn’t meant to know? There had to be a reason that Steve didn’t deliver them, but they were here now and he clearly wasn’t hiding them (which wasn’t true, they were in a box, and Steve _was_ in a rush—admittedly, he didn’t exactly give the team a warning before he smacked the alarm button —but Tony was going to ignore it because he really _really_ wanted to look), and they _were_ addressed to him. Maybe Steve was just waiting to deliver them. Reading just one wouldn’t be _that_ bad. And what Steve didn’t know wouldn’t kill him. Tony wasn’t going to help HYDRA on that front, no thank you.

He took a seat on the edge of Steve’s bed, pulling the box into his lap. He noticed that there were little time stamps at the top of each letter, indicating when Steve had written them. He cocked his head to the side. Maybe, it was better to go in order; otherwise, he might not understand what the hell Steve was doing. Tony picked up the one furthest down in the box that was labeled with his name and he stared at it for a moment. He felt a little whisper of guilt, before he firmly squashed it and unfolded the letter.

_Dear Stark,_

_I’ve been seeing a shrink (don’t laugh) and she recommended writing letters to people with things that I don’t feel comfortable saying out loud. She said it’d be more helpful instead of bottling everything up, which, you know, makes sense to me. Bare with me now. I’m not too good with words._ _Everything’s all jumbled up inside my head, and god, you just— you are very frustrating. Just, a very frustrating individual. I feel like I could’ve handled things better on the Helicarrier, but I’ve also just, never met someone quite like you. I am not sure if that’s a compliment yet, so don’t take it as one. Not that you’re really reading this, or will you ever, but I want to limit the ego of this fantasy version of you I’ve cooked up. That’s more of a joke. It’s hard to tell in letters._

 _ ~~Captain America~~ ~~Captain Rogers~~ ~~Steve Rogers~~  _ _Rogers._ _Since I used your last name. To be fair._

Tony arched an eyebrow. So. This was a therapy thing. Alarms went off in his head at that and he knew he should stop reading, but...fuck. Fuck with a capital ‘F’. Tony could learn everything he wanted about what Steve thought about him, things Steve obviously would never say to him, but all the things that Steve _felt._ This was an inside look without all the pretense and cover ups that Tony would see from Steve sometimes. When he’d swallow whatever words he had and leave.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek; if Steve found out about this, he’d be pissed as hell. Tony scanned the letter again, before glancing back at the others in the box. He dithered for a moment, before he put the letter beside his hip and reached for the next. In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Fuck it. I’m already going to hell,” he said to himself as he unfolded the next letter. And again, what Steve didn’t know, wouldn’t kill him.

The letters continued on and it was clear the more Steve wrote, the more comfortable he got writing them. The letters got longer, and slightly more personal as time seemed to pass. Sometimes, they were light, quips or comments about something he had seen from the team that had confused him or pleased him or scared him. Tony enjoyed the letters of him talking about the 21st century and the internet after he woke up from the ice, like how it took him an hour to realize that he was typing Goggle.com instead of Google.com and that he wanted to ask Tony for help, but was too embarrassed. He wouldn’t have minded, Tony thought, chuckling.

Other times, it was darker, sadder, commenting on how sometimes being with the team reminded him a little too much of the Howling Commandos, and yet not familiar enough to be comforting. Tony’s heart clenched a little bit at those, but he didn’t want to stop. He was learning so much about Steve and all he wanted to do now was to learn even more. Sure this was a little unorthodox, but Steve was like one of those irritating puzzles that you couldn’t quite figure out. Tony hated those. They were an insult to his intelligence.

_Dear Stark,_

_I feel like I messed up talking about Howard. I’m not sure why; I thought Howard was a pretty okay fella when I knew him. But that was also 70 years ago and if I’ve learned anything after being unfrozen, it’s how quickly things change. So, Howard is a sore subject. I won’t bring him up again. But if you ever want to hear the stories, I got plenty of them._

_Steve_

 

_Dear Tony,_

_You are the most pig-headed, stupid, reckless son of a bitch I’ve ever met and I was in the army. Do you know what it’s like, watching you jump in without letting the team know? I_ **_hate_ ** _that._ _Listen! I may be able to leap at least 50 feet, but even I can’t keep up with that. Don’t do it again. Do you know how helpless I felt, watching you just throw yourself out there without a single thought?_ _I’ve lost so many men that way. I know you said that you all aren’t soldiers, but all of you (yes, including you) mean a heck of a lot to me. I can’t stand that. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re doing. I want to trust you, but you’ve got to trust me too. Also, I’d like to point out that for all of your complaining about my old age, you spare me no consideration for elderly heart attacks. Pick a side, Stark._

_Steve_

 

_Dear Tony,_

_Your sleeping habits are remarkable. If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were the one with the serum. I don’t know how you run like that, continuously, and so efficiently, and so recklessly. I want to ask if it has something to do with your fancy arc reactor doodad, but_ _it seems like a touchy subject and you know how bad I am with touchy subjects._ _I wish you’d sleep properly though. I walked in on you asleep on the counter the other morning. It scared the hell out of me. I’d never seen you like that. I’d never seen you sleep period. I thought you were hurt, but then you let out this god awful snore_ _that rivaled Hulk’s._ _I don’t know if you remember, (you probably don’t; you were asleep after all) but I carried you to bed, tucked you in and everything. You look very peaceful when you sleep. I didn’t realize the tension you carried in your shoulders when you’re awake. I want to help you, somehow, show you that I can take some of whatever is putting that weight on your back but I know it won’t be welcomed. You always comment on my ‘broad shoulders’ perhaps you should consider using them sometime. Don’t take it like that; I know how you think. I think I’m going to start bringing you lunch. I hope you don’t kick me out._

_With love,_

_Steve_

Tony looked at the valediction and rolled his eyes fondly. _With love,_ wrote Steve. What a sap. So he was growing on Tony as much as Steve was growing on him. It explained why Steve started using the kitchen. Tony _thought_ Steve’s motherly henness was coming out and what do you know, he was right.

He opened up the next one directed at him, still smirking a little bit at the last one, but his mirth didn’t last for long. As his eyes crawled down the page, Tony paled. His hands shook as he tightened his grip on the paper, cutting in holes with his nails. A hurricane of emotions rolled around in his stomach when he reached the end and he forced himself to read it again.

_Dear Tony,_

_It’s taking a lot out of me to admit this. And only on paper too. I don’t know when or if I’ll ever tell you this myself, but a week ago, Nat and I (and Sam Wilson, a really nice fella, don’t blame him), when we were trying to track down who was hunting Fury, we found some information about HYDRA and SHIELD. Of course, anything dealing with HYDRA can’t be good and it was just that. Not good. Fuck, Tony. I guess I’m stalling. I just don’t want to write out because that’ll make it true. Even though, I’m too late. Even though, it already is. But_ _you were always a straight to the point fella_ _and I owe you the same so I’ll_ _get to the point._

 _I know who killed your parents._ _I know what that implies, but it’s true._ _Their deaths were no accident. I don’t know what it was like, to get the news, and I really don’t think time heals all wounds no matter what fancy sayings our shrinks like to tell us._ _To tell me anyway. Gosh, I don’t know if this is the worst part, but I know the man who did it. I think I do, at least, I should. He ~~was~~ i ~~s~~ was my friend. I’m sure of it. __And I know what I saw and I know what he did, but that wasn’t him, Tony. It_ ** _wasn’t_**. _It can’t be. The Bucky Barnes I knew, that wasn’t him. And I don’t exactly know how, but I know HYDRA had something to do with it. They did something to him._ _I don’t know. I wish I had the answers. You wouldn’t believe._

_I don’t know how to tell you all of this. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, Bucky being alive and everything else. And I should tell you all of this, now that I know, but then I see you grinning, or laughing or doing something so insanely you that I just can’t bring myself to say anything. I know it’s going to bite me in the ass, and you’re probably going to hate me, but I think I’d prefer that over breaking your heart like this._

_I’m sorry. I’m a coward._

_With love,_

_Steve_

Tony read the letter again before he folded it up and tossed it onto the box’s lid. He ached with emotional turmoil, anger being the strongest player, running through his mind. It was bitter in the back of his throat, indignation and fury mixing together and forming something acidic that made it hard to swallow. He took a breath, shutting his eyes.

Of course, he knew about Barnes. How could he not? Tony hopped on SHIELD’s files the second they leaked. It took him forever to find his parents’ files; he didn’t think to look for them first because why would he? For thirty years, he was convinced Howard’s heart problem was the cause of it, but to find out that it wasn’t? To find out that he was blaming the wrong man for his mother’s death for over half of his lifetime? Tony had spent a good hour in the bathroom, heaving up all the contents of his stomach.

Tony dropped his head into his hands, shaking. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He wanted to throw up again, knowing that Steve _had known_ and didn’t tell him. Didn’t think that maybe this was something Tony deserved to know, no matter how unsure Steve was? Sure, it took them awhile to become friends, but they were still friends even then, right? This just… this just really hurt.

Like another betrayal. Yes, there was anger, and sadness, but the betrayal of it stung worse than anything else. How long would Steve have waited to tell him if Tony had never went digging himself. Never?

Tony forced himself to calm down with long inhales and exhales. This was a mistake. He knew he shouldn’t have been snooping, that he would probably find something he didn’t want to see, but he’s a stubborn son of a bitch and this was _Steve_ . He… fuck. Fuck this. He barely has the energy to untangle all of these emotions in his head. Time went from him. He needed to get Steve his clothes (but did he need to after _this?_ Steve wouldn’t die from wearing a scratchy hospital gown for a week; Tony hoped it’d give him hives) and then maybe cool off. _Maybe._ Who the fuck knew at this point? He didn’t want Steve to know he knew, but all gloves were off the next time he’d see him, he just knew it. Maybe he’d get roaring drunk and doubly disappoint Steve. Well, at least they’ll both be feeling mutually disappointed and betrayed.

Tony started tucking all of the letters back in order, his mouth a tight hard line as he did so. His hand hovered over the lid to the box, ready to slide it into place and be done with this horror show… Tony paused. He shook his head. _No,_ he thought, _you want to be done with this, remember?_ But that letter… it was a long time ago (and that still made his stomach clench with anger), two years, at least. A lot could change in two years. He stared at the most recent letter, muling over his choices in his mind.

He had already been burned once by his snooping. He should really put the box away; this wasn’t his to see. But the one in front of him was labeled just a month ago, and if Tony really wanted to know how Steve felt about him now...

He bit his lip, before taking the most recent letter out and unfolding it. God, this was such a bad idea, but he wasn’t sure when the last time he had a good idea was and somehow he was still standing, so there was that. He started reading, his brows furrowed as he braced for impact.

_Dear Tony,_

_Things have been strange, lately. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Of course, some about Bucky, I’m still searching for him, and some about Sam (I hope you like him as much as I thought you might). But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about you too._

_The 21st century is strange, and, gosh, you really embody that, Tony. I think that might be why I didn’t want to see that you were well, a swell guy, underneath it all. Forgive me for being a short sighted old fella? I was angry. I didn’t really realize at what, but you were so easy to dump all of that on. You’re larger than life, taking all those punches and still come out grinning, if missing a few teeth. Reminds me of Bucky, but I hesitate to say that now, knowing what I do._

_It was annoying at first, how unruffled you were. About everything. About me, about Loki, I mean, shoot, Tony, you fall from the sky, half-dead, maybe actually dead, and wake up cracking jokes. I kept wondering how you can just get up and keep going, how you made it look so easy. I think I resented you a little bit. That you were stronger than me. I was supposed to be Captain America. I was supposed to be the strongest, hold all of you up, but I couldn’t quite keep myself together on the worst days._

_And then you invited me to your fancy tower, and I thought about how much of a fool I must look, floundering so much that Tony Stark himself has to rent out a room to a relic like me just so he doesn’t have to watch him drown, but it didn’t feel like that. Of course you dogged on me, I wouldn’t really expect anything less, but it was never I don’t know, cruel. You didn’t pull your punches, like everyone else, and yet you also seemed to know just how much to push me until I couldn’t take it anymore. You challenged me, yet made me feel real. Nothing felt real until I was here. I felt, for the first time in over 70 years, a little bit more like Steve Rogers. It was nice._ _I thought I missed New York when I was in D.C. and I did, but a lot of it was really about missing you._

_I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I think you’re really ~~neat~~ ~~swell~~ ~~special~~ ~~good~~ important to me. As a friend, of course but also, maybe, I don’t know, more than that? It’s stupid, it sounds juvenile, even to me, and I don’t even know how I feel about that. I mean, I came from a time when a fella could get put in the slammer just for hinting at something like that so writing it down, making it real like this is exhilarating. Scary, but good. Challenging me even when you don’t know it, huh Stark? One of a kind guy, that’s for darn sure. Thinking back on it, it makes sense it would be you. I think I might’ve always know it would be you. _

_Wish I could find the words to say this aloud, if only so you know you are loved, even if it's not by someone you really want._

_With love,_

_Steve_

Tony’s heart stopped; his jaw dropped. He looked at the last line of the letter, eyes widening by the millisecond. His mouth worked to say something, but whatever it had in mind died in the back of his throat with a strangled sound. He lied back on the bed, putting a hand to his head, still clutching the letter.

 _With love,_ Steve wrote. **_With love._ ** And Tony threw it out the first time he read it. Just barely an afterthought. How did he not see it coming? _Even if it’s not by someone you really want._ Oh shit, _Steve._

Tony exhaled with shaky breaths. He rolled over, the side of his head flat against Steve’s sheets. Steve’s sheets that smelt like him. All the looks that Steve gave him, they made sense now. How he swallowed his words sometimes when Tony was around. Even when it was just the two of them. How many times had Steve tried to tell him? How many moments did Tony let go? When he didn’t press on, wrangle the dying words from behind Steve’s lips?

He sat up on the bed and hunched over, his eyes tracking up and down the letter on his lap. Steve _loved_ him. _Steve_ loved him. Steve. Steve who was in the medbay and hadn’t woken up. Steve, who he was still so, so _mad_ at.

“You bastard. You complete ass. What are you doing to me?” Tony asked, his voice strangled as he stared at the final sentence. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to hold the hurt he was feeling and let it fuel him, but he could already feel it seeping away. Fuck. _Fuck._ He could just imagine Steve’s soft, yet sad expression as he wrote and it was… god. _God._

Tony pressed his palms into his eyes, feeling the letter brush against his cheek, teasing him. God, this was too much. He was so fucked. And Steve still wasn’t awake. Tony was feeling more and more like a heel the more time passed. There was no way he could keep this from Steve. He… he didn’t _want_ to keep it from Steve. And wasn’t that a scary realization?

He sighed out, the sound loud in the empty bedroom. He let his eyes trail over the few things in Steve’s room, wondering just how he was supposed to unfuck himself. His eyes were drawn back to the letter and his eyes widened, before he snapped his fingers, standing up with a start. His ribs twinged in protest, but he ignored it as he gave the letter one last look and placed it back in the box, putting the lid back on.

He had work to do.

 

***

 

Tony threw his hands behind his head, leaning back precariously in his chair as he stared at the holograms in front of him. He knew he couldn’t focus on them now. It was just for show even though he had no one to fool, but himself. JARVIS had alerted him when Steve had woken up, so there was a large chance the other man had read the stupid letter he wrote. Or was in the process of reading it, or maybe he got three paragraphs in and ripped it up. (Tony knew Steve probably wouldn’t do that, he’s too much of a nice guy, but Tony was starting to have some regrets and almost hoped that Steve would).

He stared blankly at his screens for a moment before he jerked up from his chair, the sound of someone stomping in his ears. Well. That was fast. He fell back into his chair, twisting, as he watched as Steve burst into his workshop, the man’s face a brilliant shade of red. He was clutching Tony’s letter in his hand.

Tony’s heart worked double time as he examined Steve’s face, working to keep his own expression easy and relaxed. Sure he was failing, but at least Steve looked too flustered to pick up on it.

“Heya there, Cap. You know, I should write you up for sleeping on the job,” Tony drawled, allowing himself to grin. It was a little forced, had too much teeth, and he wondered if Steve could tell. Probably, the bastard. He watched as Steve swallowed, his nostrils flaring a little bit as he breathed.

“This… you wrote this?” Steve asked, barely able to keep his voice steady. Tony arched an eyebrow, and the pretty flush on Steve’s face turned a touch darker.

“I know, I know. It’s hard to believe, but I really did. Look, I even have writing calluses on my knuckles. I don’t know how you 20th century folks did it,” Tony rambled, trying to deflect. But Steve was just staring at him, still in that dumb ass hospital gown and— Wait. Tony narrowed his eyes, exasperation temporarily replacing his nerves.

“Really, Rogers? I brought you clothes, you ungrateful ass, you couldn’t have at least—” Tony began, but he paused abruptly, just about swallowing his tongue as Steve stepped closer, hesitant but hopeful, so damn hopeful. God, Steve only ever looked at him like that in his dreams. Was he dreaming? He better not be. Although, if this was a dream, by now he would probably be half-naked and bent over—

Nope. He was not going there right now.

“Did you… did you mean it?” Steve asked quietly, his blue eyes intense as he held Tony’s gaze, looking serious, far too serious for Tony’s tastes. Dammit, his eyes weren’t supposed to be so big. Only Tony’s eyes were allowed to be that big. Tony stared at him, his lips parting slightly with surprise, before he recovered, fumbling a little over his words.

“‘Course I did, I never say anything I don’t mean,” Tony said. Steve raised one eyebrow in a perfect condescending arch, his lips quirking up in an amused half smile. He hated that that expression amused him as much as it annoyed him, but he was glad when he felt some of the uncomfortable tension melt away.

It was just Steve. Well, there was nothing _just_ about Steve, but he was still a complete dork. A really really _hot_ dork. But a dork all the same.

“Okay, maybe not _all the time_ _,_ ” Tony amended with a huff, “but I definitely meant this. What I wrote. Work with me here, Cap.” He waved a hand around as if to gesture to the whole situation. Steve looked back down at the letter in his hands, scrutinizing it carefully (was he really reading it _again?!_ Right in front of him?) before he smiled shyly. Tony’s heart jumped to his throat; fuck fuck fuck, he was so fucked.

Steve’s face hardened suddenly, and something like remorse and shame crossed his features, and Tony felt his shoulders tensing up.

“I…. Tony, about… About Bu- Barnes and- and your _parents._ I know I should’ve told you, I wanted to, I did I’m—” Steve stuttered through, before he cut himself off, his mouth a tight line. He was still staring determinedly at the letter as if it held the words he wanted to say, and Tony shook his head. This wouldn’t do. He was pretty sure they were just getting somewhere.

Tony stood up, pushing his chair back until it hit his desk with a thunk. Steve’s eyes suddenly flew up to meet his, slightly surprised by his outburst, and Tony forced himself to breath.

“Okay, listen, we went over this. Or, I went over this, in a letter, and you did too, and yeah, we should talk about that probably, but Steve, this suspense is killing me. I know my ticker’s supposed to be all fancy and new, but it can only take so much, you ass,” Tony said in one breath, tilting his chin up and projecting a confidence he wasn’t really sure he fully felt.

Steve stared at him, his eyes roving over his face in that calculating way he had perfected, before he chuckled sheepishly, his hand creeping up to rub at the back of his neck.

“I… Okay, Tony. I just think you’re real swell, and I don’t want to—” Steve started up again, and Tony groaned, pressing fingertips to his forehead. God, Steve and his insistence on treating him properly like some classy gentleman. Please.

“Again, been over this. I checked ‘yes’ on your little love note Steve. I know all about how ‘swell’ you think I am; Jesus, you defrosted like what five years ago? Whatever, you know what else is swell?” Tony asked, shifting a little bit as he walked slowly over to stand in front of Steve. Steve watched him carefully, his expression guarded and mildy nervous, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. And wasn’t that just delicious, how he was affecting Steve? He dug his teeth into his bottom lip to stop his smile, feeling an incredible mix of giddiness and terror. He was used to seduction, but this was _Steve._ Steve who _loved him._

Sweet Christ.

“Kissing. Kissing is really ‘swell.’ How long has it been since you puckered up for someone, Cap? I heard about that time with Natasha, by the way. That’s definitely a story I want to hear abou—” Tony rambled, trying to find his footing because holy shit he was jumping in head first here, before he clammed up as Steve slid a hesitant hand to the back of his neck, his fingers resting lightly at the base of his skull.

Steve’s thumb rubbed against the skin on his neck gently for a moment, and Tony shivered ever so slightly. Steve seemed pleased at the reaction, the nerves that were so obvious on his face settling some as Tony responded to him. Tony almost rolled his eyes.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with going through my things while I was indisposed,” Steve said, and Tony sputtered, much to Steve’s amusement. _That bastard._ He had him right where he wanted him, conniving son of a bitch.

Tony tilted his face up invitingly, glaring at Steve slightly even as he did so, and Steve chuckled lightly. “You can’t blame me, Cap, they were just sitting there! With my name on them. You would’ve done the same, if it had been my super secret box,” Tony accused, and he grinned a little bit when Steve looked away a little sheepishly. Tony dithered for a moment, before he stepped forward until their chests were brushing. Steve’s eyes snapped back to him, and the faint dusting of pink across his cheekbones deepened slightly. He hid his delight with a tiny smirk.

“And, if things work out, you can’t be mad at me. If I hadn’t snooped, you would go on angsting about how hot you are for me in letters, Steve. _Letters._ You have a computer, you heathen,” Tony said, and Steve huffed, rolling his eyes up in that fondly exasperated way he did.

“We’re still talking about it,” Steve said firmly, and Tony groaned.

“God, you’re such a killjoy—” Tony began, before being cut off for a third time by Steve leaning down to press their mouths together. _Fuck, finally._ Tony wasn’t kidding about his poor heart. Not that this was helping in anyway because _Steve was definitely kissing him._

Tony was expecting something explosive. That last letter was so charged, hell, the space around them _right now_ was crackling with energy, but Steve was so _gentle._ Tony would’ve rolled his eyes, (because really, he wasn’t some wilting flower, he was sure Steve had done some reading up on him) but gentle didn’t necessarily translate to _bad._ He wasn’t sure if it was possible to put “kissing Steve” and “bad” in the same context. It was like Steve was just testing, fumbling a little bit, but sweet, and growing more confident the longer Tony stayed put. Tony would have loved to be pressed up against his workbench in a dirty and selfish kiss, but he found he was quite content to stay put as long as Steve wanted, because as much as he complained to himself about the speed, his knees were starting to turn to jello. God, Steve was turning him into some sort of sappy teenager. Disgusting.

He allowed Steve his moment of control, before he smirked mischievously to himself and pressed forward, swiping his tongue against hesitant lips. Steve let out a noise, parting his mouth slightly, and Tony took it as an invitation. _There_ , there was the needy Steve he had read about. It made him grin against Steve’s mouth, sure if he were to pull back and take a look, Steve would appear ruffled and surprised and perfectly debauched just from a little kissing. That image alone had Tony groaning and swaying forward, his hands reaching out to grip Steve by his hips.

Steve hissed suddenly, pulling away with a sharp gasp as his hand flew to his side. Tony furrowed his brow a little bit, concern drowning out the sharp bite of lust that _yes, he was right, that is a beautiful image_. Steve probed his side with a partially annoyed partially embarrassed expression. He looked up, a rueful smile on his face.

“I… Sorry, I might have just sort of, rushed down here before they could, uh, well,” Steve started, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck again. Tony was still sort of breathless from the brief taste of Steve he had gotten, his cogs trying to start again, before Steve’s words suddenly caught up to him, and he gasped, narrowing his eyes.

“You damn hypocrite. You always force me to stay! Even when I have really important work to do,” Tony accused, but he really couldn’t care less. There was a lightness to him that he hadn’t felt since waking up from the shrapnel removal.

Steve frowned, a stubborn look crossing his features. Well, the honeymoon phase didn’t last long. “You aren’t a super soldier, Tony. Of course you have to stay put,” Steve said firmly, crossing his arms across his stupidly broad chest and Tony squished down the burst of glee that sprung up in his stomach when he realized he was allowed to think those things without weird guilt for lusting after a teammate.

“That’s bullshit, Rogers, and you know it,” Tony said, jabbing a finger at him. Steve narrowed his eyes at him, before his expression softened slightly, running a hand through his hair. Tony gleefully thought about all of the things he might be able to get away with now, before realizing he was just as fucked as Steve eyed him carefully with a tiny pleased smile.

“Fine. Okay. I’ll go back,” Steve said, his tone just a touch putout, and Tony couldn’t help but throw his head back and laugh.

“I’m totally going to try this on you the next time I end up where you’re at,” Tony threatened with glee, and Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head fondly as he tried not to grin.

“Maybe focus more on trying not to end up here in the first place,” Steve said, his lips pursed in a poor imitation of his Serious Steve face. Tony waved his hand.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked. He paused for a moment, before he rocked forward on his feet on an impulse and pressing a fleeting kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve looked surprised, the blush that had been fading coming back in full force. Tony grinned, his stomach swooping a little bit at the expression on the other man’s face. Holy shit, that had just happened; holy shit, this was going to be a _thing._

“Go. I’ll come up in a minute,” Tony said, softening his voice slightly. Steve smiled warmly, and Tony just barely stopped himself from launching himself at Steve again. Injured. Needed to go to medbay. They could have crazy super sex later.

Tony watched as Steve turned and started walking towards the entrance to his workshop, before turning back when he reached the door. Tony tilted his head in inquiry, and Steve sighed softly. He paused, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, before he looked up at Tony.

“We’re okay?” he asked softly, and the corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Yeah, Steve. We’re okay.”

 

***

 

Steve,

I can’t write dear seriously. Not that you aren’t dear to me! In fact, I’m writing you (honestly Rogers, _writing_ with my _hand_ ) to tell you the opposite. So, confession time: I definitely snooped. Like, went-into-your-room-to-get-clothes but-then-read-all-your-letters-to-me snooped. I’m not proud of it, but that’s mostly because it wasn’t hard; everything was just sorta out in the open. And yeah, maybe it was a dick move to do that while you were indisposed, but you don’t leave a box of papers with a man’s name on them out in the wild and not expect said man to take a peek. And if you did, you should’ve know that man sure as hell isn’t me.

Anyways, letters. You wrote. To me. By the way, some of them? Very hurtful. I’m frustrating? You haven’t watched yourself try to figure out the microwave for the first time. Also, I’ll have you know my reckless behavior is hardly reckless because I’m a genius and have already looked at all the possible outcomes in the time your heart takes to beat. Don’t question that.

I’m derailing again. How did you do this? My hands already starting to cramp. I hate this Steve, but I definitely don’t hate you so I’m trying. Fuck am I trying. Okay. So. Letters.

First off, fuck you for not telling me about Barnes. Second off, I’m not an idiot, of course I went through those files as soon as I heard Fury’s daycare went viral. Third off, I understand. I don’t like it, and I’m going grumble about it under my breath for a couple of months, but I understand. I’m not as brave as you seem to think I am. Cowardice is my specialty, Cap. It’s why I’m writing instead of saying something. So, I guess maybe we aren’t that different. Except that I actually gave you this letter, so I’m definitely one upping you there.

So. Big elephant in the room. Letter. Whatever. You. And your feelings. Not bad! Good. I think? I hope, I guess. I thought writing was supposed to organize thoughts but this just looks like a mess. Also, sorry for the grease stain, I’m in the workshop, because where the hell else would I be while baring my soul to a _piece of actual paper._ I still can’t believe that. I have graphite on my hands, Steve. _Graphite._

It’s weird, okay, because you’re _Captain America_ . Grew up hearing about you like you were the second coming. So yeah, a lot of hero-worship there and then a whole lot of bitterness and come to think of it, I projected a lot onto a guy I never really met, but that was totally okay because you were definitely dead. Except not dead. Not dead, and not as much as an asshole as I really, _really_ wanted you to be. It would’ve been so easy for me if you weren’t so damn perfect. Which is another thing that baffles me. You’re so clearly invested in me when I haven’t done a whole lot to earn that. I know you’d protest, because you’re perfect like that, but come on. I’ve got a bum heart, even without the reactor, and I still can’t quite get my head under the pool I had installed on the top floor.

Okay, enough of that. Gross. I feel naked, and not in the fun way. Ug god, this is hard. How did you write so many of these? Not important I guess. I feel like I’ve talked in circles and not gotten anywhere. You, against all odds, really like me. And I, obviously, because who wouldn’t, really like you. Oh my god, this is so stupid. I can’t believe I just wrote that. This is really junior high for both of us, Steve. Just, hurry up and read this and come kiss me or something fuck.

With love,

Tony


End file.
